“Detour,” Red calls out as our carriage screeches to a stop at a blockade. Already, the exchange of gunfire and the clang of metal on metal ring out as rebels on one side of the blockade clash with Constantine’s troops. “We have to take the west thoroughfare road.”

“Do we know if that’s blocked too?” Aramin says.

I suddenly leap out of the carriage. “We need a view from the skies,” I sign hurriedly at them before shutting the carriage door. There in the street, I crouch and unfurl my wings.

Some startled shouts ring out as a few witness me. I feel a bullet ping off my steel blades. Inside the carriage, Jeran already urges our driver in Karenese to turn around. As they do, I gather my strength and burst into the air. The world diminishes below me.

The entire city is in flames. The fires dot the landscape in orange and gold, and from up here, the sight takes my breath away. Just days earlier, Cardinia had seemed like an impenetrable stronghold. Now, it looks like a sea of chaos.

I soar through the night sky, stay just above their carriage.

Turn west here, Red instructs me through our bond, and I swerve.

Down below, I spot a cluster of Constantine’s soldiers, their scarlet uniforms gathered along a street. Ghosts snap their jaws among them, lunging forward to attack some rebels who have turned and fled down the opposite end of the street.

I turn sharply. Not here, I call to Red through our bond. Stop. Go several more blocks.

He hears me, and a vein of trust shoots through our link. Down below, the carriage comes to an abrupt halt before it turns back and continues going. Some of the troops spot the carriage. A contingent of them breaks formation to pursue them and the hulking shapes of Ghosts follow.

My eyes search for the next possible path until I finally find it. I tell Red to turn the carriage in its direction.

As they turn, the soldiers catch up to them from behind.

All the anger in me wells up, and suddenly I dive, narrowing my steel wings and pointing myself toward them. This time, no one is commanding me. No Premier is ordering me to strike down prisoners. I am my own Skyhunter.

The soldiers look up and see me coming too late. I barrel into them, cutting through guard and Ghost alike. One of the Ghosts twists, its teeth closing on my wing, but I turn in a tight formation. My blades slice through it, and I hear it shriek in response. I land, skidding across the ground to a stop, my eyes glowing.

The carriage hurtles onward. As they turn the corner behind me, I arc my wings protectively around myself—then shoot back up into the sky.

I feel invincible here. The joy of it surges through me until I am drunk from the rush of it all. This is the danger that Raina had warned me of—that once I got this taste of being a Skyhunter, I will only want more of it.